


working in clay

by goddcoward



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Deleted Scenes, Dubiously Canon, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rewrite, Scraps, Walk Of Shame, but folks have missed them so., by word of god i declare this work and all its contents Orphaned, i no longer wanted these words associated with me, that's literally just what this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddcoward/pseuds/goddcoward
Summary: this is a collection of deleted scenes from posted works, i.e. chapters i put up to share with the world and then took down. hopefully this will help resolve some confusion among readers! i know that what i as a writer think is decent enough for consumption does not necessarily match up with what the consumers think is decent, and i've gotten rid of a lot of things without warning or explanation. deleted works, chapters that were significantly changed and/or removed entirely will find a new home here, so if there's something you've missed because i am recklessly impulsive with the delete button, this is the place to look!since chapter deletion is most often a result of an executive decision to dramatically change the wording/content of any given chapter, updates associated with extant works will almost certainly contradict what has been retroactively made canon.to be posted in full:apex predator (original and whatever the hell that attempt at a rewrite was)bloodsportentropyto have ex-chapters archived for reference:hellfire (especially as the rewrite proceeds)serendipitylearn to love the painliabilitynothing to regretdangerous woman
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	1. the chapter formerly known as TOBIRAMA II

**Author's Note:**

> first of all this is probably not an exhaustive list! feel free to let me know if there's something i've forgotten
> 
> setting suns and if the seas catch fire have been orphaned, not deleted. they're just no longer associated with me
> 
> i won't make any edits that aren't related to grammar and probably not even grammar but you know how it is. you only see the typos After you post

ONE WEEK EARLIER

Hashirama’s desk is a small, poorly-contained typhoon of paperwork and scrolls and plants of all kinds. To access it, Tobirama has to physically fight his way past a patch of creeping vines, two strawberry bushes, and no less than four small poison ivy plants that he assumes his anija keeps around solely for inconveniencing the poor, Sage-blessed individuals who attempt to help him do his work. _Four._

Tobirama, thankfully, is not allergic to poison ivy, so they pose no real barrier to him, but beyond the reach of their reactive oils and coiling tendrils, the real vegetative danger lurks; the desk itself. It’s the first piece of furniture Hashirama ever made with his Mokuton, and as such it’s rough and lopsided and more akin to a hacked-open log than anything else, but it serves its purpose, and the years have worn its splintered edges into smooth curves. It isn’t even visible under the flurries of books and papers and stationery miscellany cluttering up its surface, but as Tobirama takes a seat in the chair, he can feel its malevolent plant-glare turn to him, and he’s forced, as he always is, to pay his respects to the goddamn desk before he can begin any real work.

“Anija should have abandoned you for timber _years_ ago,” he tells it crossly, and though the desk shivers in displeasure beneath his touch as he attempts to wrench open the drawers, it’s well used to his contrary nature by now, and reluctantly it gives in and goes back to whatever it does when it’s not being an unbelievably violent piece of _garbage._

It seems almost – hesitant, though, and as Tobirama rifles through its drawers with a critical eye, loudly declaring almost every document he sees to be doomed for the fire, he realizes why. His fingers brush up against the back pocket of the topmost drawer that Hashirama thinks he doesn’t know about, but something’s wrong – it juts out, having been closed improperly, like it was opened and then shut very rapidly with little consideration for whether or not it would remain hidden in the sheath of the drawer.

Suspicious, like if someone had hastily hidden it there before, perhaps, leaving to go bother his saintly little brother for no real reason other than being an asshole.

He gently tugs it open, and inside there lays a scroll, made of soft yellowy vellum and sealed shut with pitch-dark wax.

It’s addressed to Hashirama, but the only way it could have ended up back here is if his brother consciously hid it from him; Anija always makes sure to keep him up to date on the most important missions, the ones he can’t assign or decline by himself because of their magnitude and potential reward. Sure enough, when he checks, the seal has been slit and carefully glued closed again with a touch of chakra, and with a single spike of his aura Tobirama opens it once more, rolling it out and narrowing his eyes as he reads something that Anija very obviously never intended him to.

The desk shudders in anticipation, and Tobirama reads the scroll.

[ _…We of the Shogunate implore his lordship Senju Hashirama to accept Our humble request and to assign Our mission to one of his Clansmen, who may use their considerable skill in the shinobi arts to assassinate his lordship Minamoto Daisuke, an unworthy successor to the throne and a man with interests running counter to the continued existence and prosperity of the ninja community as a whole…_

_…hardline policies concerning shinobi as weak, individual military forces that could potentially band together to pose a considerable threat, should the wars ever cease to keep them separated by contempt and bloodshed…_

_…offering a reward of 3,000,000 ryō to the noble Senju, should they see fit to carry out Our wishes, and the favor of the court…_ ]

On one hand, in order to lure Daisuke into a vulnerable state where he could safely be disposed of, he’d have to be practically naked and alone, and to lure him into being naked and alone, there needs to be an omega in heat. He’s famously weak in the face of a pretty bitch with an alluring smell, but none of his omega Clansmen could possibly be expected to take on such a dangerous, risky job.

On the other, _3,000,000 ryō_. 3,000,000 ryō and the chance to eliminate a potential threat before it becomes one, which is Tobirama’s favorite way of dealing with problems. Should the peace ever come, and he believes it will, what with the Uchiha being forced backwards into their own territory and Hashirama continually proving again and again that he has good intentions by refusing to slaughter them where they stand with his Mokuton, it will be Tobirama’s duty to defend it with his life as it is his duty to fight for his Clan now, and…peace would be _good_ for the Senju. They are a war-weary people, exhausted and down-trodden and all but crushed by the rage of combat that has ensnared their Clan for so many generations that no one can remember when or why it began. He hasn’t told Hashirama about how he’s been reconsidering his stances, not being totally certain on his position yet, but subconsciously, he’s always flocked to his anija. He’s always believed in Hashirama’s dream simply because it was _Hashirama’s_.

If Hashirama wants the village, he’ll need the Shogun’s approval to see it built, and if Minamoto Daimaru’s eldest son is allowed to ascend to the throne in the event of his death, that will not happen. Minamoto Daisuke is a notoriously paranoid bastard, raised as a civilian leader but ultimately as untrusting as any decent shinobi, and his dislike of ninja is famous; the missive is right. He’d never consent to allowing a foreign military power of such strength and capability to flourish right under his nose, and perhaps more importantly, he’d oppose any kind of peace between the warring ninja Clans at all. Any decent despot knows to quash rebellions before they happen.

But therein lies the problem. Daisuke _is_ a fairly competent warrior, and although he lacks the chakra gifts, he has evaded assassination attempts made by ninja before, and if Tobirama is caught – it _will_ be Tobirama accepting this mission, since Hashirama can’t risk his life like that and is an alpha anyway and no one else in their Clan is strong enough to handle a threat of this caliber – it will mean the end of the Senju. The Shogunate will declare war, their allies will abandon them, the Uchiha will very likely use the opportunity to strike back and gain more ground.

This is precisely the kind of mission that Hashirama shouldn’t agree to accept or decline alone without considering the input of those members of his closest inner circle. This is precisely the kind of mission that could make or break the future of the war. This is precisely the kind of mission that they have no real say in, because who would they be to refuse what is practically a royal summons? This is precisely the kind of mission that Hashirama should have never dreamed of hiding from anyone, but especially Tobirama, his closest advisor and staunchest supporter and most devoted follower.

It takes Tobirama a minute to realize that his hands are shaking, and a minute more to realize that it’s because he’s upset. He’s _angry_ , outraged that Hashirama thought he could deceive him like this, fuming at the implication that his anija doesn’t trust him or his skills as a ninja enough to take on jobs of this rank, infuriated that the Senju received an offer like this in the first place and that his brother just - tossed it away.

There’s no point, though. His decision on the matter is already made.

The only thing left to do before he leaves is confront Anija.

\--

PRESENT DAY

The bark is slick with rainwater and rough to the touch of Tobirama’s bare skin, but he grips at it so hard that it splinters, disregarding his own personal discomfort. Even the memory of that horrible argument sets his blood to boiling, and he just – Anija—

—well. It’s not like Tobirama didn’t _know_ Hashirama had a violently overprotective side. He’s always seen himself as Tobirama’s keeper, at first because of his dynamic and his albinism and his fragility as a very young pup, then because of the abuse he underwent at Butsuma’s hands, abuse that turned him into the shinobi he is today, then because he was simply the only brother left for him to suffocate in affection.

Tobirama knows that Hashirama hasn’t ever forgiven himself for the way that Butsuma would punish them as pups. He knows that his overprotectiveness is born from the anguish of having watched their other brothers buried in too-small coffins. He knows that Hashirama had a large role in his formative years, knows that he’s always been his anija’s favorite sibling.

As the heir and the only living Senju to have manifested the Mokuton, Hashirama went from an undisciplined brat who required a stern hand to correct his deviance to an undisciplined brat who was completely and utterly untouchable. For months, Anija received no punishments whatsoever, given how their father had little idea of how to raise children without physical violence.

Tobirama remembers the incident that started it all, and he has never once regretted it.

Hashirama, though? Hashirama was _heartbroken,_ convinced that it was entirely his fault, that he was a terrible alpha and anija and Clan heir, that he had failed in his filial duty to protect his very last sibling from harm.

And, well. Tobirama is biased. Who’s to say that he’s not correct?

Regardless of their feelings on the matter, the day did come where five-year-old Tobirama and nine-year-old Hashirama were training together at the same time in the same place, both under Butsuma. It had been nearly a year since Mama and Kaa-chan managed to save Hashirama from the beatings by exploiting the value of his Mokuton.

A chance blow to the side of Tobirama’s downy white head, a strike that sent his little body flying through the air to collapse on the ground meters away, exactly the kind of treatment he would just get up and brush off. Hashirama, though?

Hashirama had cried out in alarm and immediately rushed to his side, flipping him onto his back and getting tears all over his training clothes. Butsuma had stood back, watched, and come to a conclusion: while Hashirama couldn’t be directly disciplined given his immeasurable value to the war effort, there was no reason why he couldn’t punish the boy by simply beating his brother. Tobirama wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t protest, wouldn’t refuse to take a blow for his anija’s sake, and Kawarama was hardly a year old at that point, Itama still growing in Mama’s belly.

A rather neat solution to the issue of Hashirama’s disobedience, all told. His dreams of peace couldn’t be driven from his ditzy little mind, but he could be anchored in the present, kept aware of the wars, if Tobirama were the one to receive punishment instead of him every time he misbehaved.

So began Tobirama’s tenure as Hashirama’s whipping boy. Anija quickly learned to keep his opinions to himself, to dry his tears and move on from his transgressions and stop questioning Chichi-ue’s strategies, but he couldn’t be perfect, even when he tried.

By the time of Kawarama’s funeral, the instinct to intercept injuries aimed at Anija was so strongly ingrained in Tobirama’s small being that jumping between his father and brother was a mindless, immediate reaction. By Itama’s funeral, most of his baby teeth had been knocked loose by Butsuma’s hands, but Hashirama still grieved, even if he coped with that loss better than he had Kawarama’s, for whatever reason.

As for the Uchiha incident?

Father tied Tobirama to a post in the heart of the compound and brought out the big black bullwhip he’d never actually used on his own pups up until that point. Two lashes for every meeting, with more for Hashirama’s betrayal of his family, and for his treason. One lash for every time Hashirama screamed out or tried to stop it from happening. More, because Tobirama himself was complicit and allowed it to happen without interference; he’s a strong enough sensor that he would have known that his brother was skipping out on his lessons and his duties as the heir to meet with Madara by the Nakano, and he hadn’t told their father the instant he became aware of it. He’d kept his silence, even knowing what it would mean for Hashirama, and knowing what that would mean for _him._

By the time Butsuma was finished, Tobirama’s back and sides were a ragged, bleeding, bruised-red _mess._ He’d lost track of how many times he was struck somewhere around thirty, just trying to breathe through the pain, to cast his mind elsewhere and keep his focus off of the repetitive agony of being whipped like a disobedient animal in the most public sector of the Senju compound.

_He should still be able to breed,_ Father had said, wiping blood off the bullwhip and coiling it back up, not looking over at Hashirama and where four grown shinobi had to restrain him to keep from rushing over to Tobirama, ignoring the shrieking. _No internal bleeding, nothing affecting his fertility. He’ll be fine when the time comes that he is to bear children._

Tobirama still has those scars, a nasty silvery lattice of old, tough tissue running from his nape to his ribcage to his pelvis.

He hadn’t cried. Looking back on the incident, it’s noteworthy; there must have been at least fifty strikes, probably closer to a hundred if not exceeding that number. Hashirama had committed treason; it was Tobirama’s due to accept the punishment, and he is nothing if not faithful to his family.

Tobirama suspects that their father was more restrained than he could have been. By all means he could have died that day, an albino and an omega, useless in the wars and weak in constitution. It was only his own skill and talent that saved his life. Hashirama doesn’t know it, doesn’t think about it, does his best to keep that horrible day out of mind, but Tobirama has long since realized that he never should have survived beyond the end of his anija’s meetings with the Uchiha heir.

The Uchiha heir, Madara, now the Uchiha Clan Head, currently chasing Tobirama through the woods; the Clan Head, Madara, a powerful, virile alpha; the Clan Head, Madara, who will, when he catches Tobirama—

—he doesn’t want to think about what the man might do to him for all the times he’s brought Izuna to the brink of death, but he’s still lucid enough to understand that he should probably attempt to heal his entrance before he’s found, by the Shogun’s soldiers or by Uchiha. He can’t trust them to be kind and chivalrous, especially not when he’s just murdered the heir to the Shogunate, and certainly not because he’s in _heat_.

Tobirama grits his teeth, shoves down his instincts, and forces his chakra to cooperate with him. It thrashes and flails around his body like some odd, half-formed mimicry of Izuna’s Susanoo, but his chakra control is legendary, and he hones a wisp of it to a knife-like point. It’s a struggle to maintain the energetic integrity of the fine curl of chakra as he flickers through hand seals as fast as he can without risking an error, but he does it, and in moments his fingers glow minty seafoam green.

_Medical Art: Energy Stitch._

He presses his hands tenderly to the site of the stinging in his vagina, and the relief is instant. It’s not the work of a true medic – an iryō-nin wouldn’t need stitches at all, and could repair the tear in his loins with nothing but a soft pulse of chakra – and it hasn’t completely healed the rip, but he can run again, can safely fuck himself on his fingers again. The pain has faded from a sharp, fierce burn to the sweet, slow ache of being used too much too fast, and _oh,_ there’s his heat, spiking once more.

He barely has the composure to climb safely down out of his tree, catch his breath, and use a small, simple Doton jutsu to construct a small cavern beneath its roots before he crawls into the embrace of the earth and drops unconscious in a matter of seconds.


	2. liability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so fucking close to finishing so many chapters but i'm falling at the final hurdle and it's very frustrating......hgnhggn want to put cool new content out but. it's not happening rn folks

“Uh, Madara-shishou? Are you alright? You’re glaring awfully hard at that treatise.”

Uchiha Kagami has never been one of the subtler creatures to walk the good green earth, and it shows. He’s a competent ninja, certainly - already a genin at fourteen with the stipulation that he’s forbidden from anything more difficult than C-rank missions, and the further condition that Tobirama, with his rampant foaming hatred for the phenomena of child soldiers, would be the one trusted to train him.

He could not be considered _stealthy,_ nor could he be accurately called _observant,_ for all that he has a wicked tendency to be in just the right place at just the right time and memorize suspiciously useful bits of information with his developing Sharingan – these are all well-known facts about young Kagami, and that’s what makes Madara so angry for the second time concerning his little problem.

It doesn’t take the Uchiha’s fiercely-guarded kekkei genkai to note the way he wears his reading glasses more often than not, now. It doesn’t take the Sharingan for even passing civilians to tell how obviously Uchiha Madara leans in and squints in order to see things clearly enough to understand them. It doesn’t take anything at all, really, to notice the way he’s acting, the way he seems to be losing his vision; Tobirama doesn’t need to be a genius to know about it, despite his blindness.

That being said, the man himself has little to no idea about the looks he draws when he stares so intensely at anything and everything. He doesn’t appear to notice the way his near-constant squinting is gradually carving lines into his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to understand the fact that the phenomenon of his worsening eyesight is the village’s biggest not-secret, and that he’s the only person who hasn’t figured out that _everyone_ knows.

(Even Hashirama. _Especially_ Hashirama. Mito had to restrain him with her Adamantine Chains to keep him from immediately rushing over to his best friend and bawling uncontrollably when he found out, and it took the full force of the Kyuubi no Kitsune to calm him down that time.

Tobirama had laughed about it and did nothing to help, and it’s remained a point of some contention between he and Mito for months now, although their tight-knit bond overcomes it more often than not.)

Madara turns his glare on Kagami, now, but the boy does not flag under the weight of his Clan Head’s menacing stare; he stands tall and proud and unusually serious, and the depth of his worry is not-so-clearly visible in his dark gaze.

Everyone knows, but no one is willing to talk about it, and certainly, no one is going to bring it up to Madara himself-

Except, that is, Kagami, who is still just fourteen but a true ninja in his core – when he sees a problem, he goes after it like a shark when there’s blood in the water, and this is no different. This is more _personal,_ certainly, but it still needs to be addressed, and until it is, it will _hurt_ his Madara-shishou, which is absolutely unacceptable.

“Madara-shishou,” he says, braver than all of the on-duty ANBU put together, “are your eyes alright? They seem to be hurting you.”

The Clan Head’s nostrils flare. His eyes narrow. He goes statue-still, and in an instant Kagami knows he’s made a mistake, but he sticks by it – he does not falter, and he will take what punishment comes to him should shishou be angry at him for caring.

It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened, and doubtlessly it won’t be the last.

Madara remembers the month before, remembers Tobirama asking him a very similar question, remembers his horrible response, and he does not learn his lesson. He whips around with fire blazing high in his dying eyes and he howls at Kagami so loudly and for so long that the birds are scared away from the Tower for _days._ His rage is great and terrible, and that day the young Kagami is nearly expelled from the Uchiha Clan altogether for questioning his elder, his better, and his Clan Head; once the ordeal is finally over, once he’s managed to wipe the tears out of his eyes, he goes straight to his sensei, and what he sees breaks his heart.

Tobirama clutches at his cane-sword with skinny, veined hands, lips going thin and white and disapproving when he learns of The Incident. There are many emotions brewing in his stormy expression, but _surprise_ is not one of them, and for some reason that’s more disheartening than almost anything else - if not even _Tobirama-sensei_ can escape that formidable anger, then surely there’s nothing that can be done to help him.

“That is not so, Kagami,” Tobirama says softly, his voice quiet and raspy and _sad_ in some way that the boy can’t quite place. “There is so much than can be done to help anata; there is so, _so_ much, and what he needs is patience and calmness.”

“How are we supposed to make _him_ patient and _calm,_ Sensei,” he says, despairing – shishou has always gone to lengths to stay relatively quiet and caring around Kagami, has always refused to show off his more brutish qualities, and to learn that he’s given that up? To learn that he values his pride over his dear family and his own husband?

It is nothing less than _terrifying._

“Come with me, boy,” Senju instructs briskly, rising to his feet with all of the grace of the snow leopards he’s signed to and tapping his cane-sword impatiently on the floor as he heads for the door. “There is a good deal of work to be done and not a lot of time to do it in, and we must be fast and efficient and competent if Madara is to see sense before he goes blind altogether in more ways than one, yes?”

“Uh, yes – Sensei, wait up! Gosh, you’re fast! Yes, I’ll help, but what are we going to do?”

“We are going to use the power of _research,_ Kagami-kun, and conduct experimental trials on our dear friends and family without their knowledge or consent. It should be rather fun, so wipe that look off your face, child, it’s unflattering.”

“ _Wh—_ you can’t _see_ me!”

“Don’t need to. Come on, pick up the pace, the labs are a bit of a ways away and you’re inadequate enough as an intern. No, don’t protest, that is a parameter of standards that not even anata has managed to meet, and we’ve been together for thirty-six years. Let’s _go._ ”

Tobirama cannot save his love from himself, but damn it if he isn’t going to try. He has some inkling of the problem Madara is coping so poorly with, but he’ll have to bring in Izuna and Mito as well, to be surreptitious extra pairs of eyes that he can rely on to help him map out the symptoms. It’s possible the irritability is due to pain, but he’s not cranky all the time, only when asked about his eyes; sensitive, then, about his vision loss, which is not at all unexpected but will make his life a good deal more difficult. It’ll draw out the process of finding a treatment, but if all else fails, the judicious application of low-level Raiton jutsus can clear the body of most maladies in a flash, given one can control them to the extent that more good is done than harm.

Really, the biggest obstacle in helping Madara will be Madara himself, but again, that’s not exactly a surprise.

Tobirama just hopes he’ll still have a husband to argue with as time passes and the experiment progresses.

\--

It’s been three months since Tobirama officially enlisted Team Tobirama (sans Danzō, who hates Madara for some odd reason, and plus Izuna and Mito, who are exasperated but willing to help) into his research efforts, and the going is – slow. Getting Madara to consent to any kind of situation that will allow Tobirama to discreetly examine his eyes in any kind of detail turns out to be more painful and aggravating than pulling teeth and roughly as easy for everyone involved. It takes nearly as much time put into careful planning and orchestrating for him to isolate his husband and get him into a good mood without it also devolving into sex, but at last, he’s got _something._

Step one – because they haven’t gotten past step one, yet, gods forbid that they actually be _efficient_ or timely or any such thing – is to gather all the information that can be gathered about the troubles plaguing Madara and his eyesight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this includes a very short bit from the dead chapter three. as a treat: my original idea had something to do with madara slowly going blind and already blind tobi loving him regardless. shared disability, loving husbands, yall know the deal its some good kush

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trying to think of something classic and funnie but i'm running out As Per Usual,
> 
> why is it that i always have great witty comments for the notes right up until it's time to write the notes.


End file.
